The episode where I finally come to terms with the fact that buying a pair of sports shoes is not like it was back in the 2000s and recite an ode to the Nike Air Max 95s.
This is an ode for footwear from a former sneaker head.
The game is effed.
I tried to wade upstream against the current as pride and price didn’t allow me to enter draws and raffles to catch Ls.
I’m deffo an old head that still lives in the glory days of obscure online independent retailers and lesser known stores dotted through the city.
Nostalgia is a strong force of nature, so much so that I cast my net in the perpetual abyss of limited supply at a stupidly high price in hope that I reel in a prized catch of some of the finest silhouettes and OG colour ways that tell a thousand tales, passed down from pair to pair over the years.
I went through my functional phase, I tried the present day models but theres nothing like the allure of a retro pair of Air Max’s.
These iconic kicks aren’t just shoes they’re aspiration, ambition, accomplishment, heritage, statements, accents, moods, memories… it’s a feeling.
The fresh out the box smell never gets old, nor does the returning them back to the box after their once every trimester wear.
I may be salty sometimes at never managing to cop a lot of pairs but deep down I must admit the price has me running scared but if it’s a particular type of retro OG I will cop with no expense spared.
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